Paris
by SlytherinElektra
Summary: Steve goes on vacation to Paris, where he encounters a magician who likes robbing robbers, just for the love of chaos. There's hurt/comfort, there's angst, there's the city of lights. There's an unlikely friendship.
1. Montmartre

I deserved a holiday. After so much saving people and being heroic and trying to adjust to the new time (be relatively normal in it without losing the essence of my own time)... After enemies, allies, fights, doubts, lies, mysteries - after all of that, I, Steven Rogers, deserved a nice long holiday. Some days to disconnect.

I tried in different places of the U.S., first (it was and still is my home, after all, the country that I know best) but people kept recognising me and asking me things about the Avengers and the terrorists and the costume and everything job related. Not exactly the perfect way to disconnect. Some of the people worried that if I was there it meant that something bad and dangerous was going to happen. Not ideal while on holiday, either. It didn't feel like a true vacation when I had to justify my presence and everybody knew who I was and watched me.

So, I decided to go to Europe, as a last move before going to some god-forsaken island or to an Amazonian tribe. Europe. The old continent. Maybe it was a good idea, I had quite an old spirit, after all.

And what is more European than Paris?

So I took a few things and left for Paris. The flight was nice, long but pleasant, with plenty of clouds in the little window and air hostesses offering products on the aisles. Not an oficial plane, no governors, or monsters or invisibilty. Just a regular flight. When we finally arrived at the Charles de Gaulle airport some people recognised me, and I feared this would be like Seattle all over again.

But it wasn't. Most french people didn't seem to recognise me and talked to me in French if they talked at all. Sometimes tourists asked me for directions, as if I was a local. Only a couple of american girls recognised me. For the rest of the people there, I was a stranger. Another face on the subway or on the queue to some place.

The city was beautiful, incredibly beautiful. A city with a lot of history, an amazing number of monumental buildings, statues, squares, obelisks... I saw the Eiffel Tower, the Champs Elysées, the Notre Dame Cathedral, all the main interest points. And even if they were really beautiful I must admit that I felt a bit lost. I wasn't used to the ways of European people (their ways of talking, of living...) and everything seemed strange. I was used to being out of time but now I was out of place, too. A stranger in a strange strange land.

The only words I spoke in French were _Bonjour _and _Merci_ which didn't ease my communication with the rest of the population. A lot of times, I felt I was being mocked or led to tourists traps with over-priced... well, over-priced everything. I tried to enjoy it, nevertheless.

I was walking in the old district of Montmartre one evening, with its stone floors, and old buildings and crêperies and whatnot. I lost every notion of the time that passed watching the shows, the many people on the streets trying to entertain the tourists, singers, magicians, dancers, painters and all kinds of people. I relaxed on the viewpoint with the whole city at my feet. What would be like living there every day? Having the monuments, the river, the bridges, the centuries-old buildings and museums.

I thought of my life, too. Of what was going to happen now. If it would be all adventures or just mainly me trying to figure out this time. I completely lost track of time, watching the people go by, the sun set, the white church, the buildings beneath me, the life everywhere in the city.

By the time I went to get some dinner it was really late and most places were already closing, so I wandered around to find an open place. When I finally did, I was totally lost and realised with horror that my wallet had been stolen. I was sure of it, I had it with me only hours ago. They may had taken it when I was watching one of the shows, or when I bumped into someone in the Place du Tertre while marvelling at the painters and caricature artists. Or maybe in the subway, where I was so tight anyone could have accessed my wallet pocket (I was never taking line 1 again). Damn!

I had my keycard of the hotel on that wallet, all my IDs, money... Now I was going to have to go to the french police, without any proof that I was myself, and I would probably have many problems to communicate with them. And I couldn't even buy dinner or call someone because my mobile had no charge and the charger was in the hotel. I would probably have trouble in the airport to get back, too. Someone trying to pass as Captain America. God...

When I was cursing my luck, a young man all dressed in black came close to me. He had something in his hand. Could it be...?

"You wallet, _Monsieur._" He said and gave it to me. A miracle.

I opened it and saw that everything was there.

"Even the money! I owe you big time, kid. Thank you, thanks a million. Hey, aren't you the guy who was making all those magic tricks near the Sacré-Coeur, right?" He nodded. "Cool show. Anyways, where did you find it?"

"In your robber's pocket, _monsieur._" He said, snarky. "I like to take things from people who feel so proud because they took something without the victim noticing only to find out it was taken from them as well. Like a hobby."

There was something eerily familiar about the kid's voice but I couldn't put my finger on it. He was wearing faded black clothes and a leather jacket and had straight black hair and terribly pale skin. I couldn't see his face or his eyes because his hair shadowed them, but I felt like I knew the guy. Which was impossible, because I could still hear the french accent hidden under the almost perfect english.

"Well, I don't know if what you do is exactly legal, but you sure are a blessing. Say, why don't you let me invite you to..."

But I was interrupted by a deep male voice behind us. There were people coming from the other side of the street, too.

"_Il est là!"_

"_On a eu assez de toi, Serrure! Il est temps de payer."_

"What...?" I asked, not understanding.

"They are a bit angry at me, this small criminals. I have been... well, interfering with their work. It's fun. Oh, and the people from Rochechouart are here too. You should best leave, _Capitaine._"

They seemed to be coming from everywhere. I counted fourteen angry men. Some had baseball bats. It was too late to call the cops, the guys were almost on us. It looked like _Serrure_ had angered quite a lot of people. There was no way I was going to leave this kid alone. (Even if he wasn't a kid - the guy was probably my age - I felt compelled to call him so.)

"These men have no quarrel with you. Leave, Captain" And suddenly there was no french accent. I didn't really care.

"I'm not going anywhere until I know you're safe, kid."

"You'll regret that." He said, certain.

"I hardly think so."

Before we had a chance to flee, they were on to us. There were bats and big men and we were very outnumbered. But a bunch of thugs were no match to the Captain of America, so I took three or four of them down easily. Until that fateful moment.

"_André, t'as ton truc pour les types grands?"_

No idea what it meant. Before I knew it, someone (probably André) was applying some wet rag to my mouth. Chloroform. If it wasn't for the serum I would be out already. But the thing was strong, and it left me a bit groggy. My vision was blurry but I could see in the distance the gang hitting the kid. He was fast, and escaped a lot of times - but they finally pinned him down. There was three of them beating him. I tried to get to them, help out, but swayed. I closed my eyes, trying to focus, to get rid of the liquid's influence. But then I heard a scream of pain and saw the thugs bending the kid's arm at an impossible angle. I had to do something.

Fighting the dizziness and the shadows I got up and went against them. I surprised them, that much was clear. Me and the kid (now with one arm only) took down half of the gang while the rest of them fled.

When I finished, I went to check on the kid. His arm was probably broken, and they had beat him up pretty badly, but at least he was still conscious. That was when I saw his face.

To say I was shocked would be an understatement.

"Loki?"

He smiled.

"_Comment ça va_, Captain Rogers?"

A/N: Hello! Liked it? I could totally make a series called "An Avenger meets Loki in Europe and they become kinda friends" - first it was London, now it's Paris. Hope you liked it, nevertheless, and do tell me what you thought! Sorry for the mistakes, in both languages. (Edit 2: Corrected what I could see. Hoping it's better) But I am neither English nor french. There's Loki angst and hurt/comfort ahead, as well as more Paris, more chaos and a confused Captain.

The bits in french:

Il est là: He's here.

On a eu assez de toi. Il est temps de payer: We've had enough of you. It's time to pay.

T'as ton truc pour les types grandes? : Do you have your thing for the big guys?

Hope you liked it and don't forget, reviews help inspire the muse!

You know you want to review!


	2. Hôpital La Pitié-Salpêtrière

"What on earth are you doing here?" I said, with my guard back up. What if all this had been a trick? The wallet and everything. A trick to try and defeat me. I wouldn't put it past him to elaborate a scheme like this. It seemed unreal finding an enemy of the earth just where I was spending my vacation.

He answered, while trying to get up.

"I am a magician, in case you have forgotten. Magician and gentleman thief, _à votre service_."

"Really? You got out of prison in Asgard to return wallets to tourists? Seems a bit hard to believe."

Loki seemed tired and very frustrated not being able to stand up with only the one arm. Truth is, he wasn't threatening at all. I was having a hard time believing this was the same man that tried to conquer the earth some time ago. He looked bad, to be honest. Probably because he'd just been beaten by a bunch of thugs. He sighed.

"Believe what you want, soldier, I already know no one trusts the words of a master of lies."

I couldn't just watch the guy try to get up and fall on the floor once and again. But I just couldn't know what to think, what to do. This was the last thing I had been expecting. Loki, intergalactic terrorist, had returned me my stolen wallet. Then we were beaten by a bunch of low level criminals. This was not the holiday I had in mind.

"I should probably call the police, have them arrest you. I'm sure SHIELD has agents here too." I said, but I was not totally convinced. He was hurt and the injuries seemed real enough. Loki shot me a poisonous look.

"Go ahead, do. I have plenty of documentation proving that I'm a french citizen who just looks like Loki. It will be a bureaucratical nightmare."

Trying to get up with one arm was proving impossible and I decided to help him up, not able to watch the man struggle any longer. Yes, he was a criminal but he also needed help. There was something different about him- the spark, the arrogance from last time were gone. Not only he looked perfectly human in those clothes, he was also a troubled human. He was distressed and in pain.

"Can't you magically heal or something?"

"If I could, you think I would have spent hours in agony on Stark's floor after the Hulk thrashed me?" He was pissed. I was normal.

"I guess not."

He started walking a bit unsteadily, clutching his stomach with his one good arm.

"Where are you going?"

I asked, not feeling okay with having him on the loose. Yes, there hadn't been any important incidents in Paris lately and Loki didn't seem all that threatening but letting him go just felt wrong.

"Home." He stopped and looked at me. One of his eyes was red, it would probably turn black with time. He was still clutching his stomach. "Look, Captain. It has been over a year since I first set foot in this city and nothing that would require your services has happened. I am just a small crook from Le Marais who has a magic show and likes to spread chaos among other small criminals. Nothing big, nothing harmful. I even helped out some tourists, like yourself. So why don't you thank me for returning your wallet by not calling the police on me?"

I didn't say anything, just looked at the man.

He took that as a yes.

"Much obliged."

He turned around and started walking.

I remembered what Thor had said the last time Loki had escaped, a year and a half ago. Unlike all the other times when he'd been worried about the universe and all the people in it, this time Thor had seemed concerned for his brother. "I worry about him." he said, and Steve didn't have time to ask him why the change before he left. It was strange. But he hadn't thought much of it ever since, concerned with his own problems. In fact, he'd thought that Thor not worrying about Loki being dangerous was a good thing. But now he was confused - did this mean that Loki was now good? And why wasn't he doing any magic?

There was also the fact that he had made a great part of the mob of this area angry, which implied that he'd been doing at least a bit of good. For some reason (maybe because my heart was too soft, because Loki's beaten way of walking reminded me of my younger pre-serum self) I decided to help the guy. Try to understand what was going on with him, get the upper hand. If he was planning something... maybe this was the way to know it, before anything happened. Getting to know him maybe could help to defeat him next time, too. Know your enemy, wasn't that the saying? And if it wasn't any plan and he was just living here making magic tricks and returning wallets just for kicks, well, there'd be no harm in helping the guy. Besides, I was in Europe, thousands of miles from home. No one would point any fingers at me for fraternizing with an enemy. And maybe this was the start of an adventure, who knew.

What I knew was that trick or not, I couldn't just leave a badly injured man wander through dangerous streets on the little hours of the morning. That was not who I was.

"Wait!"

Loki stopped. He hadn't gotten very far.

"You want me to help you, or something? I mean, if you got documents and stuff maybe you could go to a hospital, get that arm looked at. I mean if you can pass as human."

"I can, I have before. But they took all the money that I had on me and the subway is already closed. Hospitals are far."

"I could pay for a cab ride." I said, because I could. None of the thugs had been able to get near my wallet, now extra-carefully hidden.

"And why would you do that?" Loki said, narrowing his eyes. I would be suspicious, too, if I was him.

"Well, you did return my wallet. And I said I wasn't going anywhere until you were safe."

He was still unconvinced, shivering in the Parisian night. The street was almost desserted. Dark. All the lights out. On an unknown street.

I continued talking.

"Say what, why don't we make a small truce? I'm nice to you as long as you're nice to me. And the rest of the world, of course. Let's say Paris is a neutral land, where no one attacks anyone, ok? You're just this magician kid who screws over criminals and I'm just a clueless american tourist. Deal?"

Was I crazy? Making deals with terrorists? Paris Steve was crazy Steve!

Loki took my hand with his good arm.

"Deal, _monsieur._"

We walked up to a metro station, where Loki said taxis would be waiting. I didn't know what I was doing? _You're just helping a kid out, Steve._ I told myself. And to be honest, I liked feeling like a rebel for once. _I help Loki if I want to because I'm a free person_, I thought. Yeah. This was Europe. I could do what I wanted. We found a taxi just before arriving to the station and I stopped it. I told the driver that my friend (my friend! Loki! crazyness!) was hurt and that we needed an emergency room. He didn't seem to understand.

"What place... that?"

_"Juste un hôpital avec service d'ugence. On s'est fait attaquer."_ Loki intervened, probably just repeating what I said.

_"Il y a beaucoup d'attaques ces dernier temps, huh? Bon, je peux vous laisser à La Pitié."_

_"Ça serait parfait, merci."_

And thus the car was moving, so I gathered the driver had understood.

"Your french is very good." I said, a bit surprised.

"I'm a french citizen, Rogers, I'm supposed to know french."

Yes, of course. I tried to engage on small talk, to make things less awkward.

"What's that sign on your t-shirt?" I asked. I had seen on other people, so it probably wasn't alien.

"It's a design I use to modify people's wills and make them do as I say. The success of a maneuver of mind control is in the subtility of it, Captain."

My eyes widened. How could he control people with a t-shirt?

And then he was smiling and then, the damned man was laughing.

"Oh, captain, you are so easily fooled is almost not funny. Almost."

Loki had his head on the window of the cab, and closed his eyes every once in a while. I didn't know what to say, what to do. It was awkward. I reminded myself this could all be a trick. Maybe I could get some info.

"So...you're not evil anymore?" Straight to the point. Crystal clear.

"I would not go so far, Captain. I am, just like you, taking a break. Getting some distance from myself. Maybe I will try to conquer your world again in the future, or maybe I always desist on my attempts at ruling once and for all. Right now, I only wish my stupid body wouldn't hurt so much."

That raised an interesting point.

"Seems like a big coincidence that you were attacked just in the moment when you had someone to help, right?" If he thought he could trick me so easily, he was going to be very disappointed.

He laughed.

"It was not a coincidence, Captain, it was a matter of stadistics, of probability. I mess the work of criminals, things they've been planning long. And they are people I can easily outsmart... they all resort to brute force eventually. I get beaten up more often than not, so no, I do not believe this was a big coincidence. And I remember telling you to leave."

Well, he did ask me to leave in several occasions. But why? So I didn't get hurt in the fight? Or to avoid unmasking his identity? I really doubted it was because he was concerned for my safety. Looking more closely I could see some scars in his neck and in his hands. There were also faint traces of burns surrounding his eyes. Odd.

"Can't you do some sort of magic to prevent... this?"

"I'm trying to use it the least possible... Or else Asgard could use it to find me. Or maybe even your SHIELD, I ignore if you have the means to track my magic. Anyways, I would rather not go back to jail for a long...while."

Seemed understandable. I had never been in prison but I knew of people who had gone crazy in there. And Loki had always seemed on the verge of crazy.

After another while of silence, we arrived to the hospital, _La pitié- Salpêtrière. _An enormous thing, the biggest, oldest, most magnificent hospital I had seen in my life. Jeez, even hospitals were monumental in this place. I was oficially impressed.

We followed the signs that read _Urgences _and they led us to a waiting room. There were many people there, kids complaining, half sleep old people, a man with a bloody foot and people shouting, or moaning or trying to sleep. The lighting was soft, the place clean and elegant. Medical staff went up and down through the hallways. We waited, sitting on those chairs.

I saw how people were being taken and doctors were seeing them and they talked in french and showed documents and filled papers. Meanwhile, an increasingly pale Loki was dozing off on my shoulder. I honestly didn't think this was a trick now. If he wanted to, he could take out one of his little knives and stab me. But he didn't. And if I wanted to, I could take him to SHIELD or the police and he wouldn't be able to do anything. He was vulnerable. I could do what I wanted with him. Turns out, I wanted to help him.

After a couple of hours I started to get angry.

"Hey! My friend is hurt!" People looked at me like I was crazy. I was afraid that I was supposed to do something I didn't know. Afraid I should have said something, done something. Loki was the only one who spoke french and he wasn't exactly functional. After an eternal wait, a doctor came to us.

We went to a consult and he asked for Loki's ID. He gave it to the doctor, still a bit asleep. They talked a bit in french and I understood nothing, only "_attaque"_ and "_traumatisme"_. Then the doctor made Loki take off his shirt and I saw how black and blue his chest was. His was definitely a dangerous game.

They did several things and I followed. I followed him to the x-rays and waited for him. Waited while the doctor called some nurses and they brought some material to stitch the cuts and bandage the biggest bruises and lacerations. They gave him pills and injected him things and I was there. Sometimes he said something, made a joke about america being idiotic and soldiers and things. I didn't know why he was doing it, but even with the sarcasm and supposedly hurtful comments, I felt relieved. Relieved of not being completely lost, of having someone to guide me. Even if it was him, a god of mischief who lied and cheated and made me believe he was evil again, every now and then.

I think that at some point they asked him about his eyes. He didn't answer and had a distant look on his face. I wondered how Asgard could be worse than this. I wondered what had happened to the arrogant madman I used to know. I wondered if he was still there or if the madness was gone for good. Wondered why he lost all desire for revenge. He had me next to him and done nothing.

The doctors and nurses plastered his arm while talking in french.

Even if I was starting to get a bit tired of not understanding, I was glad I came with Loki. I've seen a true a Parisian place, not a pre-made thing for tourists. I'd seen its people, the workers and the patients, how they lived - their faces, their clothes, imagined their story, imagined their lifes. I felt I was beginning to see the city.

Loki had been given what I'd recognised as painkillers and suddenly was on my shoulder again, slumped. He seemed to be smiling. The doctor told me, in a very accented voice, that my friend was reacting quite spectacularly to the medication and to watch him while they went to get a sling and some more meds. I agreed.

"Feeling better?" I asked Loki, trying to be nice.

He snorted and looked at my general direction with out-of-focus eyes.

"The nurses think you are my lover, Captain. They think it very romantic how you stayed close to me, never leaving."

I was suddenly blushing. Loki continued.

"...which is funny, because you are very... how was the expression you americans like to use...Oh, yeah. Out of my league."

Was old joking Loki trying to make me uncomfortable again or the nurses really thought so? His head started falling and I had to steady him, put his head on my shoulder again. I learned later that low tolerance to the compounds of painkillers was something natural on his species. He didn't seem to mind. There was a lazy smile on his face.

Unknown pleasures, like the t-shirt said. Painkillers were this crazy alien's unknown pleasure. Who would have thought?

"I think those pills have affected you too much, Loki. Or should I call you...?" I took his ID from the table "Luc Narok."

"_Présent!"_ He said, as if I was the teacher and he a student.

I could see the scars in his neck and the recently stitched up cut on his forehead. The cast on his arm, so white and shiny. Felt his breathing against me. So intensely strange. There were more people around us, personnel, people walking on the aisles, people talking in french everywhere. But I was only looking at him. The man, the mystery. He seemed pretty much out of it and I decided to try and get answers - again. Maybe it wasn't right to take advantage of someone so drugged, but I had already been kind enough by not calling the cops on him. And if I could get some strategical advantage... Safety was more important.

"Loki... you really have no intention of of harming anyone again?"

"Like it here." His muffled voice said. "Cannot go back. People hate me. Disappointed them... too many times."

Ok, so he didn't want to go back to the family he betrayed and tried to kill. Seemed logical enough. I wondered if there was something else, something deeper, darker. He was drooling a bit in my shoulder. Sometimes, in battle, you have an aim and you forget that your enemy is also a person (even if they're not from earth), someone with feelings, with a family, with their own motivations, their own hopes and fears. Somebody who could be hurt, somebody who thought was doing the right thing, just like I did. I suddenly saw that, watching my former enemy drool on my blue shirt.

"You listen to me, _capitaine_." Loki said, groggy. "Nobody ever listens to me. They only want to defeat me."

Part of me wanted to hug him, say something comforting like "I'm here" or "they won't hurt you again" but another part of me screamed this was wrong. Loki was a liar and a murderer, and he stole things just for fun, and he joked about controlling people's minds. I should stay away, I should handcuff and send him to his homeland, not pay for his cab ride, or be with him all night or comfort him. It was crazy.

But Paris Steve was a bit crazy.

And Paris Loki was a bit damaged.

We talked a while about the city and the sights. About french people and magic.

Then the doctor came back and placed the sling and gave Loki some meds. I was still surprised that he'd made up a whole life here (he even had a medical records!) but didn't think much of it. I payed for his cab ride home, too. It was already dawn and we were very sleepy. But when I was saying goodbye in his door, his voice came again.

Weird. I would have thought that he'd be glad to be rid of his enemy's prying eyes.

"I have noticed you are completely ignorant of the local languages and customs. Probably feeling utterly stupid, am I right?" Well, he was, even if he coud've phrased it less offensively. "I find myself unable to perform my usual line of work with this arm. And I thought I could offer myself as guide and interpreter. I could really use the extra income. Be sure I will make your journey delightfully entertaining. "

I was speechless. Granted, having an expert guide would be great but... it was Loki. He was bad news. Or was he?

Paris Steve was confused Steve.

I left him, saying that I'd think about it and went back to the hotel. When I was opening the door with the keycard I remembered that I had been really close to losing it, along with other treasured belongings that were in my wallet. But a small crook had retrieved it and returned it to me, just for the love of chaos.

And I decided that I liked that there were people like that in this city.

I decided I liked the people talking in french, the tourists traps, the monumental hospitals and the magician.

And I liked Paris Steve. And I didn't care if he decided to tour around the city with a madman.

We are all a bit mad, aren't we?

A/N: Weirdnessssss! I know. But my Europe series always is. Please do comment, I eagerly await your feedback ;)

Review!


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